


five times steve got sick while taking care of someone (plus one time he didn't)

by qynntessence



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qynntessence/pseuds/qynntessence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Steve cared too much. Enough to subject himself to illness to make sure the people around him felt better.</p>
<p>He underestimates the amount of guilt they feel when they bring him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five times steve got sick while taking care of someone (plus one time he didn't)

“Buck?” The skinny 19 year old walks into his best friend’s flat, looking around for his bright-eyed companion. His hands clutch at his backpack straps as he looks around the apartment.

“In here, Stevie.” Steve hears the shaky voice and looks confused at the nickname; Bucky never calls him that unless-

“Buck? Are you sick?” He walks into the second bedroom and sees a pile of blankets shaped vaguely like Bucky Barnes. It coughs.

“Bucky? I thought you said you didn’t get sick.” He teases lightly, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Jeez, Buck, you’re burning up.”

“Didn’t tell you ‘cause I didn’t want to get you sick.” Bucky mumbles under the covers, his eyes glazed over slightly with fever.

“Awh, Buck. You know I would’ve gotten sick anyway.” Steve lies across the other side of Bucky’s bed, his hand resting gently in the other boy’s hair. He can feel the dust in the air beginning to affect his lungs, but he tries his hardest to ignore it as he turns to Bucky. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“You.” His boyfriend mumbles into the pillow, and Steve laughs, which quickly turns into a cough. “Don’t make me regret doing this, Rogers.” Bucky mutters softly as he grabs the smaller boy by the waist and pulls him under the covers.

“’m fine, Buck, you know that.” His voice is slightly hoarse, but they both ignore it as Bucky shoves his face into Steve’s shoulder and coughs, the noise piercing the winter air.

“How the hell do you deal with this every winter, Rogers? I feel like hell.” Bucky’s voice is wavering as he finally looks at Steve, eyes dulled and skin paled. 

“I’ve got you.” Steve says softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, nose, and lips in succession.

“Hey. Be careful, I don’t want you catching this.” Bucky mumbles vaguely away from Steve’s face, but then starts coughing violently. Steve sighs and pulls him close, pressing Bucky’s mouth against his shoulder again.

“I’ll be fine, Buck, I’ve had worse. Besides, if I was gonna catch it, you know I’d have it by now.”

…

Steve wakes up the next morning with a Bucky in his arms and a tickle in his throat. He ignores the latter in order to kiss the former on the eyelids. “Good morning, precious.” He whispers softly, stroking the brown hair away from his eyes. “How are you feeling?” Bucky blinks up at him, swallowing hard.

“Little better. I think my cough is getting worse, though.”

Steve sighs and presses his lips to Bucky’s, parting them easily. Bucky lets his mind sink into happiness until, as if to prove his point, the sharp coughs force their way through his mouth. Steve is gentle, as always, pulling Bucky’s head into his shoulder and rubbing patterns onto his back, but Bucky knows that if Steve wasn’t sick already, he would be within the day. A pit of guilt pools in his stomach at this realization. How could he have been so thoughtless? He sneezes twice, the impact knocking the back of his head into Steve’s chin, and the coughing ceases.

“Hey. Look at me, Buck.” Steve tilts his head upwards slightly, two fingers on Bucky’s chin, and he can’t help but smile. “I’m here because I want to be. It’s not your fault if I catch this, okay? It’s mine.” Steve presses another kiss to his forehead and then leans their heads together, noses touching slightly. He smiles and tries to turn his head to kiss Steve again, but the movement turns into a sneeze, which turns into another round of coughing, his face pressed against Steve’s usually-rattling chest. He can hear his boyfriend’s labored breathing, and looks up nervously.

“Stevie? You feeling okay?” He asks drowsily.

“I’m fine, Bucky. I’m gonna go get you something to drink, okay?” The blonde presses his lips softly to Bucky’s temples. “I’ll be right back, precious.”

Bucky leans his head back on his pillows. He can hear Steve coughing in the other room, and knows from experience what he looks like; hands on his knees, shaking, doubled over from the air forcing itself through his mouth. He hates the choking sounds, hates how much he knows that they’re his fault, that for once, he had inflicted this on Steve instead of helped relieve him from it. His chest contracts with something entirely different from his illness.

Well, and also from his illness. When Steve returns, Bucky is sitting up, a hand over his chest, deep coughs emanating from his body. Again. He doesn’t know why he can’t stop coughing, and he wonders if this is how Steve feels daily, this uncontrollable urge to expel something that won’t emerge.

“Shhhh. It’s okay.” Steve is rubbing his back, pressing kisses behind his ears and the back of his neck. “I’m right here. It’s okay.” Once most of the shaking has subsided, Steve holds out the glass of water he brought earlier.

“Drink this. You’ll feel better, I swear.” Bucky hears his boyfriend cough once, short and hard, and then smile over at him. “I’m fine, Buck.” 

By three o’clock that afternoon, Steve is anything but fine.

Bucky had been lucky- the virus had only given him a bad cough and some congestion, and he could’ve fared fine by himself, though he didn’t mind the comfort of Steve snuggled next to him, pressing kisses into his back and smiling whenever he looked over.

Steve, being Steve, had reacted less-than-poorly to the virus, which was why he was currently wrapped around Bucky’s trashcan, his face a pale shade of green as he emptied his stomach.

Again.

“Stevie?” Bucky kneels down next to his boyfriend, placing a hand on his forehead and the other around his shaking torso. “Let’s get you to bed. You’re shivering, Stevie.” He can feel the exhaustion in his chest, but he gently pulls Steve to his feet anyway.

“I can handle myself, Buck. You’re sick.” If Bucky didn’t know better, he would say Steve was pouting. The smaller boy began to cough again, and Bucky repressed a sigh.

“Yeah, and so are you. Come on, we’ll both get to bed.” Bucky feels another surge of guilt as Steve doubles over with his coughing. _I did this. I did this. I did this._

Steve curls into himself on the left side of the bed and wants to cry. Why did he have to get sick all the time? Why couldn’t he take care of his boyfriend, like he was supposed to?

“’m sorry I couldn’t take care of you.” Steve turns and buries his face in Bucky’s shoulder, a few coughs shaking his frame. Bucky runs a hand through his blonde hair.

“I’m sorry I got you sick, Stevie.” Bucky gathers Steve in his arms, pressing a kiss to his temples and ignoring the growing feeling in his throat. “I’ll take care of you, okay? I’ll make sure you get better.” Bucky’s cough comes back at the last word, and Steve brings Bucky into him, pressing his forehead into his shoulder again.

“I’m sorry it hurts.” He whispers softly, sneezing twice. Bucky clutches Steve tighter as the coughs don’t subside. He hates this, hates that he can’t take care of the one person he wants to, hates that it’s his fault that Steve’s chest is filled with coughing and congestion and pain. Once he can finally breathe again, he kisses Steve’s chest through his top until Steve begins to shake again.

…

Two days later, and Bucky is thankful to whatever decided he should be allowed to breathe again. His cough lingers, a reminder of the fact that Steve’s condition is entirely his fault, but he doesn’t have time for guilt when he’s busy holding Steve when he chokes through coughing fits.

“I’ve got you.” Bucky mumbles softly into Steve’s hair as he shakes, coughs piercing Bucky’s ears sharper than knives. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He hates this part of the virus, the part where Steve can’t do anything but lie in his arms and feel miserable, and he hates that he inflicted this upon the best thing in his life. Steve finally stops coughing, the fit punctuated by five short sneezes, before curling up around Bucky and promptly falling asleep. He can feel the fever through Steve’s thin shirt, and carefully pulls the blankets up to cover them both.

Steve wakes within the hour, burying himself into Bucky as he begins to sneeze. Bucky sighs, because he’s done this a hundred times and would gladly do it a thousand more. “Here you go, Stevie.” He hands Steve a hankerchief and rubs his back gently as his boyfriend wipes at his eyes and then blows his nose. “I’ve got you.” He mumbles gently into Steve’s ear again, pulling the smaller boy down gently. He arranges them carefully, Steve’s head on his chest and his arms wrapped loosely around Steve’s torso. He coughs lightly, causing Steve to look up at him with worry filling his eyes, but Bucky gently pulls him back down to his sleeping position.

“I’m fine, Stevie. I’ve just got to make sure that you are, too.” Bucky presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head as he starts drifting into sleep, short coughs punctuating every breath.

…

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Bucky’s chest rumbles underneath Steve as he awakens. “How are you feeling this morning?” His tone turns serious as Bucky presses a warm hand to his chest.

“Throat still hurts to hell, and I’m not sure I remember breathing out of my nose, but better.” Steve’s voice is terribly hoarse, and every wince of pain sends Bucky’s heart galloping. He knows that Steve was getting sick anyway, but it kills him inside to know that this particular instance was entirely his fault.

“Alright. Well, don’t talk- I’m going to go get you some water. Are you still feeling nauseous? You threw up a lot yesterday.” Bucky shifts so that he can get out of the bed, pulling the covers up around Steve and kissing his forehead. Steve still looks terrible- his skin pale, yet flushed with fever, his nose red and rubbed raw, and he was visibly swallowing, presumably to quell the fire in his throat. Steve shakes his head, and then winces at the movement. Bucky sighs, a pang of guilt and love hitting him square in the chest as he presses another kiss to his temple.

“I’ll be right back, Stevie.”

Steve was pissed at himself. How had he managed to tip the scales so dramatically that he was now lying in Bucky’s bed, feeling terrible and- yup, nauseous, it hit him right then- when he had come over to take care of Bucky? Steve sneezes thrice, the movement of his head making the nausea worse. As he feels his stomach rolling, he shoots upwards, furthering the churning in his abdomen. “Bucky?” Steve calls out weakly, arms grasping his torso as he began to gag. All of a sudden, Bucky appears, holding a trash can in front of him and placing a strong hand on his forehead.

“Hey. I’ve got you, Stevie. It’s okay.” Bucky mumbles into his ear and rubs his stomach as he empties it, coughing all the way through. He moves the trashcan and gently begins to ease Steve down, continuing to whisper and draw patterns on his stomach. “Thought you said you weren’t nauseous, Stevie.” Bucky laughs as he sets Steve’s head on a pile of pillows. “I’m gonna go get your water, okay? You’re burning up.” Steve smiles slightly, his eyes attempting to show Bucky how grateful he was, but actually just looking sick and miserable.

Bucky returns with a glass of water and a cold piece of fabric, lying the fabric over Steve’s forehead. “It’ll help with the fever.” He explains as he helps Steve sit up and drink.

About an hour later, Bucky climbs back under the covers, happy to find that Steve is not coughing up his lungs. “Feeling better?” Bucky asks, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“A little.” Steve snuggles up into Bucky’s shoulder, a sharp cough causing his body to shake, but nothing further.

“Good.” Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead as he begins to drift off, the brunette finally feeling the exhaustion he was avoiding.

Of course, a few hours later, Steve’s wracking coughs wake him up, and he’s gentle as he rubs Steve’s back and holds him close, Steve’s head buried in Bucky’s chest.

A few hours after that, Steve is throwing up again, and Bucky holds his torso and kisses his forehead and whispers about how much he loves him.

He doesn’t get more than two hours of sleep at a time, but Steve is getting better. His color is coming back, he’s coughing less, and Bucky is starting to see his eyes sparkle more.

“Hey, Stevie. You feeling better?” Bucky mumbles to Steve after a week, pressing kisses to his temples and looking up at his boyfriend with a nervous expression on his face.

“No worse than usual.” Steve whispers back, blinking himself out of sleep.

“Good.”


End file.
